


Spies Are Forever and Always (a collection of one shots)

by GoodlynneGhastly



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, One Shot, Owen dies, Owen is a lil shit, Smut, and so is Curt, because you know, but don't worry most of these completely fckin ignore that yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodlynneGhastly/pseuds/GoodlynneGhastly
Summary: A collection of one shots for SAF, most Curtwen related. Will contain aus and a smidge of smut.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 5
Kudos: 106





	1. Empty Bed

"Mmmm, Owen?" Curt yawned, arms outstretched, reaching for the warm body of his partner. "I had the weirdest dream, I was the president..." He trailed off when his fingers met with the rough sheets of the hotel bed. And no Owen.

He cracked his eyes open, stirring out of his slumber. Awake, but not fully. "Owen?" There was no one else in the room with him. And no change of clothes other than his own. Left strewn about in their hurry. Owen's side of the bed was cold. Must have left hours ago. 

That shouldn't have made him upset. This had only been a quick fling. A quick, easy fuck. That's all they were to each other, weren't they? 

No... Curt wanted more.

He just didn't want to ruin what they already had. 

The agent sighed, finally standing up. Might as well get cleaned up and checkout. And after last night he could use a good scrubbing. 

It wasn't until he had the water running that he heard the door to the room opening. His first instinct was to go for his gun. Prepare himself. As much as he could when he was without clothes, but that was beside the point.

The thought that it could have been Owen hadn't crossed his mind. Until it turned out to be just that. "Curt, it's time to rise and-" Owen looked up, paper bag in his hand, eyes staring straight down the gun barrel. "... is this about last night? I told you I was ticklish. You choking was not my fault." and he had his hands raised, one brow cocked as if this were any other Sunday morning and he didn't have a gun aimed at him.

Curt cursed, lowering his gun and apologizing, cheeks aflame. He could recall last night. Vividly. "No, no. I didn't think you'd be coming back. Thought you were someone else."

Owen chuckled, setting the bag down before he started to make himself comfortable. "You did a number on me. Were you about to hit the shower?"

"And you me. And I was, care to join me?" But his eyes strayed to the bag. Even as Owen neared him. Curiosity had him now. He didn't look away until a hand on his cheek made him. And now he was looking into Owen's eyes. His heart skipped a beat.

"If you're wondering what's in the bag, you do remember telling me about how your favorite bakery changed location, don't you?" He had such a sweet smile. 

"You didn't-Owen, that's an hour away!" Curt beamed at him. He had only mentioned it in passing. He never thought Owen would go so far out of his way. Let alone remember something like that. "Why would you do that for me?" This would be a lot sweeter if Curt weren't naked right now.

Owen wrapped his arms around him, "Well, I wouldn't be a good boyfriend if I didn't do the occasional nice thing."  
Curt froze, face pulled into a mix of shock and confusion. "... have we been dating this whole time?" and he could feel Owen stiffen against him.

"Friend. I said friend."

"No you didn't! Owen Carvour, you said boyfriend!" Curt was delighted, staring at the steadily reddening face of his partner. "Owen I'm shocked, usually I'm the one slipping up."

"Shut up. Don't rub it in."

"I intend to rub it in. Very much." Curt chuckled, "You like me~"

Owen dropped his head on Curt's shoulder, groaning. "Can't you just ignore I said that?"

"Aw, why would I ignore it when I want it?" He drove his fingers through Owen's hair, feeling the man tense against him. And then slowly begin to unwind as his fingers worked their magic. "If... you want it too, I mean."

"Lemme think about it? This isn't how I wanted to ask. Didn't exactly plan this." His words were muffled against Curt's skin, and he almost laughed at the state of him. 

"And you just don't like winging it, do you?"

"I think you might be able to turn me around, Curt Mega."


	2. Discrete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold, slight smut

Owen Carvour.

Owen. Fucking. Carvour.

That man was going to be the death of him.

Especially now.

Why here.

Why now.

Was this payback? That had to be it.  
Owen was getting back at him for one thing or another. 

Why else would he be making Curt all hot and bothered? At a mission briefing nonetheless. One with both their bosses present and accounted for. This was suicide. 

Coy looks and suggestive words were one thing. But rubbing the heel of your boot against your partner's crotch while his own boss went over a very, very important mission? That was another.  
Curt looked red. But despite that he was composed. He had to be. If word got out-but that was what excited him. The possibility of being caught. The thrill of doing something they weren't supposed to. It made him so hard. He was throbbing. And he couldn't even give himself a chance to breathe.

He scooched his chair further in, damn near bucking his hips. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, closed fist pressed to his mouth. Like one would when suppressing a cough. Yes. That's exactly what it was. A cough.

He caught Owen's smirk from the corner of his eye, and a groan damn near escaped him then. 

Curt's stomach was doing flips, heat pooling there, almost boiling. So close. So close. So-

And Owen ground his heel in deeper, and that's what sent him over the edge. Curt spilled over. Right in his pants. Cheeks only growing worse in hue. And he was trembling. Eyes a little hazy, and thighs closed around Owen's extended leg, still quaking in the aftershocks.

"Something the matter, Agent?"

"No! No, just a cold, I'm afraid."

Owen didn't think Curt could look any prettier than in that moment. When the humiliation hit him.

Until he met up with him later that same day, and Curt was literally begging him for it.


	3. Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cough* more nasties

"This is a nightmare." Curt groaned, slumping over the table. After spending hours upon hours, pouring over book after book, he was growing restless. "What are we even looking for again?" Something boring, he was sure.

"I've already told you. And this makes the fifth time." Owen snapped the book shut, moving on to the next. A steady pile grew beside him. "The man hid his plans in his favorite book. We have to find them."

"Too bad he's dead. Could have told us which damn book. Out of the thousands he has." Curt grumbled, resting a hand against his cheek.

"This would go a lot quicker if you would help me." Another book set aside. Another taken down. 

Curt let his eyes wander, to a higher shelf. To a particular book that stood out. With a worn spine and a ribbon bookmark. And not a speck of dust. And believe him when he said this library was a damned dust trap. He's eyed this book before, but it was much more fun watching Owen go at it. After a while however, it got boring.

He stood up from his seat, groaning, "Ugh, fine." And then his eyes caught something. And now he was groaning for another reason entirely. "Christ, Owen."

His partner didn't question him until after Curt had his arms snaked around his midsection. "What now?" 

"You're killing me." Curt's hands were warm. Far too warm. And all over Owen. Tugging him close. Flush against Curt's chest. He was talking right into his ear, "Killing me, Owen. You and these damn pants." Another groan left the man, who then buried his face in the crook of Owen's neck. All so he could kiss that one special, tender spot he knew always made him a mess.

Owen's search screeched to a stop. His heart was pounding. "Not yet, I'm not-if you're not going to help me you can always leave, you know." But he didn't mean a word. Except for perhaps that first bit. Curt could get to be a handful at times. "Curtis."

He flinched at the use of his name, giving him a scowl. "Don't scold me. I am helping."

"What? By thinking with your dick?" Owen scoffed, and yet he hadn't bothered removing himself from Curt's hold. Knowing damn well he could. If he wanted to. And Curt knew that too. That's why he started to grow bolder.

"Dear you can't really blame me." His hands traveled downwards, sliding over his stomach, and then taking a firm hold of his hips. Pulling him to Curt. "With an ass like that-ow!" 

Owen had pinched him. And he'd do it again.

"Curt, unless you can pull the book out of your ass I don't have any interest in what's going on in your pants right now."

"Jesus, fine. Top shelf, red cover. Try that one. To your right-further, further-yes. That one." Curt withdrew from his embrace, growing smug when his prediction proved fruitful. "Told you."

".... You knew it was this book the entire time, didn't you."

"I might have."

"Curt Mega. I'm going to kill you."

Curt only smirked, lips back at his ear as he purred, "If you kill me, then how am I supposed to make it up to you?"


	4. Meeting

"Give it back." Curt spat, fisting the front of the man's shirt, gun pressing against his cheek. He didn't know who this cocky bastard thought he was, nabbing Curt's file when he wasn't looking and trying to make off with them. But whoever he was, Curt wasn't going to just let him off easy. Or at all, if it came to it.

He had him pinned against the very filing cabinet he'd just been pilfering. Faster than you could say 'ouch'.

"I won't be asking again." He warned, digging the cool metal in deeper. "Give. It. Back." 

"Give what back?" The man had the audacity to act none the wiser. All innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about." And he held his hands up for Curt to see. Empty. 

"Bullshit." Curt's grip only tightened. He took that one step forward, putting them barely a breath away. Chest against chest. "So you hid it. I'll find it." He always did. Curt cocked his gun, a silent warning to the man. One wrong move and he'd be done for. His other hand released his shirt, feeling around. In his pockets. Under his shirt. Wherever a manilla folder could have been tucked away. And Curt was very thorough.

Too thorough. Evidently.

His fingers paused, ears burning. Did-did the man just fucking-no. No, Curt heard wrong. He slipped his hand beneath his shirt, trying to clear his head as he searched. He tried to ignore how his own breath hitched when the man seemed to press into his touch. Another noise. Another pause. 

But he felt the folder this time. And he grabbed it before he could let himself become distracted. Again. And now he let himself speak, "What the hell was that?"

And that's when he noticed the smirk. That goddamned, fucking, smirk.

"Oh love, don't tell me you haven't noticed just where you've got me pinned." His eyes flicked down, and Curt's followed. He truly hadn't noticed where he had placed his knee when he took that step forward.

Curt choked, "That wasn't intentional."

"Sure it wasn't." He cocked his head. Now that Curt had what he wanted, he didn't see much need to shoot him. So he could disregard the weapon. And the threat it posed. For now. "That why you decided to feel me up? Never thought I'd be frisked by the agent Curt Mega."

That just made his blush all the brighter. "Really. It wasn't." Curt took his gun away, and then took several steps back. "I'm not-I'm not *gay*." He tucked the folder under his arm for safe keeping. His eyes haven't left the man before him. Knowing from experience that the second he did he'd try something. They always did. Wait a second-"You know who I am?"

There was a smirk on those lips. The man pulled away from the cabinet, fixing himself. His clothes. His hair. "I admit, really thought you'd be taller. Plenty cute though. You really are good at the dumb and naive act. Must come naturally."

Curt scoffed, "I beg your pardon?" The nerve of this man!

"You honestly can't expect me to believe you didn't know exactly what you were doing just then." And he started to move, walking about the room. As if he owned it. Curt's eyes never left him. "You know, I heard you were a ladies man. Now I'm wondering if that was all talk. A cover, perhaps?" He was teasing him. Teasing. Him. The man with the gun. "Relax. I'm not going to blow your cover."

"Good, because there's no cover to be blown."

"Keep telling yourself that, Mega."

"Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?" He still had his gun, tight in his hands. "Answer me."

The stranger ran a finger across the desk, humming. "I'm a friend. You'll figure out the rest soon enough. We'll be seeing more of each other after all." And suddenly he threw something at the floor, and smoke filled the small space faster than Curt could handle. 

He coughed, holding his arm in front of his face, waiting for the smoke to die down. Where was he? Where the hell was he? Curt wasn't going to get anywhere bumbling around blindly like this. But he had to remain alert, he had to-

"A lot more." 

That came from right beside him. Whispered straight into his ear. He could feel the hot breath against his flesh. Curt whipped around, but felt nothing. No one. "Fuck!"

It wasn't until the smoke dissipated that he was able to get his bearings. The man was gone. No sign of him.

"Well, at least I still have the-" he felt his side, face blanching. The file was gone. "Sonovabi-"

Cynthia was going to have his head.


	5. Hands and Promises

"Holy shit." Curt dropped to the ground like a sack of lead, "Holy shit." Covered in ash and sweat. Blood. Some not his own. He sat, staring like a deer in headlights at the flames before him. At the building they set ablaze. Body shaking with each breath he took. Adrenaline from the escape still pumping through him. "Ho-"

"Curt if you say that one more time. I'm shutting you up." Owen spoke up from beside him, laying flat on his back. Just as marked up and filthy as he. 

"Owen!" Curt whipped around to face him, "Owen, are you alright?" 

"I'm fine. Are you?" He groaned when Curt began to look him over, throwing his arm across his face. "That was a hell of a blast."

"You're telling me, if you hadn't grabbed me when you did-"

"Stop." Curt suddenly found a hand over his mouth, "I don't want to think about it." About what would have happened. About whose body he'd be crying over. About whose mother he'd have to console. "We're alive. That's all that matters."

About who he'd have to live without. Sure he'd be alive, but Owen wouldn't be living.

Curt took Owen's hand from his mouth, "Owen, you could have been killed! Why'd you come back for me?"

Owen dropped his arm from his face, staring up at the blackened sky. Barely a star out. Plenty of ash and smoke.   
"You know why." He eventually said, sitting up, hand still in Curt's grasp. "And Curt, I know you'd do the same. So I want you to promise me. If it comes down to it, if you have to choose."

He already knew what he was about to say, "Owen, no-'

"Promise me, Curt. If you have to choose. I want you to choose yourself-"

"Owen you know I can't-"

"You can, and you will." He squeezed his hand, "Promise me."

Curt stared at him, eyes searching his. Looking for an ounce of... something, anything. But all he found was determination. "I... I promise."

Owen relaxed, closing his eyes. Suddenly so tired. "Good." His head came to rest on Curt's shoulder, heavy sigh leaving his lips. Their eyes strayed to their joined hands, bloodied. Coated in ash. Fingers intertwined. And not leaving each other anytime soon.

Definitely not anytime soon.


	6. Spies Really Never Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ey what if Chimera cloned Owen and whatever

"Barb, what the hell am I looking at?" Those are the first words that left Curt's mouth when he came into the room. They were close, so close, to finally bringing Chimera down once and for all. They only had a few more facilities left to dismantle. It was taking longer than expected, now that they were working on their own. No agency to back them up, though he did try.

And here he stood, staring at Barb... and the slime covered, towel clad man sitting on the edge of some... some ridiculous pod thing. A man that looked all too familiar. And once he turned his head he knew why-and he immediately took out his gun and aimed it at him.

"I told you he wouldn't like." Tatiana piped up. 

"Would someone explain to me what the hell is going on?!" "Owen" opened his mouth, "Not you! I killed you-twice! Goddammit doesn't anyone stay dead anymore?!"

It was Barb who explained it. Explained the files and records Tatiana had recovered. Explained Chimera's cloning project. Then the discovery that Owen, the real Owen, was still alive and well. Well, alive. Not entirely well. Tortured and confused. And Barb's quickfire explanation of everything he had missed in the last four to six years hadn't helped. All he really caught was "evil bad clone Owen brainwashed to kill Curt" and that was it. 

Curt still hadn't lowered his weapon. "And how do we know this isn't another one of those clones?"

"Simple. We don't."

"Tatiana you're not helping!" Barb hissed.

Curt looked at "Owen", really looked at him. He looked a wreck. Tired. A little scrawny even. He guessed after spending a few years in suspended animation it'd take some toll on you. He definitely wasn't talkative. Probably still working on processing everything.

The other two were too busy discussing possible solutions, tests even, to notice Curt approaching the man. He had his own way of finding out if this was the real deal. He tucked his gun away, regarding the other with a glare. And then he put his arm out in front of him, "Once a spy..."

It didn't even take him a second. Curt felt a firm hand gripping his forearm, and he did the same, staring into a pair of eyes that he had tricked himself into thinking he had gotten over. "Always a spy." Owen finished, with that same, dumb, stupid fucking smirk that always made the American feel all warm inside. 

"... holy shit." Curt croaked. 

"Can I get some clothes or are you gonna oogle me all day?"


End file.
